Run, Rihanna
by NerdFightsDalek
Summary: This is about Fang. Summary's horrible. Fang is thrown into an AU where he meets Rihanna, Not the pop star. A girl in hiding. How will he cope with all the changes. AU. Maybe some max and flock later.


**AN: Uhm, maximum ride. This story is about fang. AU. Just an experimentation. Tell me if you hate it? **

The sun is setting. The sky is a bleak bluish-gray.

I run.

The days are growing colder, the leaves are dropping faster. The changing of seasons makes the air grow cold. It is nearing winter.

They follow.

My abused knock-off plain black converse slow me down. I am not attached. I tell myself, "Do not get attached." Time to say goodbye. I throw them into a nearby bush, if the chance ever presents itself, I will collect them again.

They grow closer.

I feel the presence of the Ice Dogs growing ever closer. I start to shiver, the immense cold is taking its toll, and I slow down. They've got me. Do they? I find the will, burrow into my tattered gray jacket, and take off again.

I wish I had my converse.

The freezing snow is numbing my feet. Numb is good, it means no pain. The misty, barren tree-tops create an ominous feel. I don't like it.

I speed up.

The sun clocks out; the moon starts its shift. I wonder how long I've been running. Time doesn't exist anymore. Not for me at least. The only thing that exists anymore is me, them, today and tomorrow. If I'm lucky. I spot a darker shape on the eerie abyss of shimmering shadows that lies before me. What lies ahead? Safety? Shelter? …Death? Death happens anyway. If it happens now, or ten seconds from now, I can't help it. No one can.

I take my chances.

I speed up, slightly aware of the pounding of cold, lonely, metal paws on crunchy, frozen earth. I pick up a blue stone, savoring its cool, smooth feel for only a second. A second is all I have. I launch it into the distance, and duck into the cave.

I hide.

Slowing my rapid, smoky breath, I push against the wall. I wait. Not even seconds pass, and the Ice-Dogs are the entrance. They haven't taken the bait.

I gasp.

Big mistake. The dogs rear their sleek, aluminum coated heads at me, quick as lightning. No, faster.

I feel a warm, human-like arm grasp tightly around my waist. It does not wish to embrace. I feel myself being pulled deeper and deeper into the cave. I stumble over rocks as I…no, not rocks. I stumble over several pebble sized, camouflage spikes as I am being whisked into the depths of the un-friendly cave.

At long last, the motion stops. My restlessness takes hold of me and I plummet the few inches to the ground. I gasp for breath. The air complies, though it does not come willingly. Each breath is like a thousand shards of ice being dragged down your throat with slow, torturous, yet immense force, then ripping with no regret at your lungs. It stings.

I open my eyes. At first I see nothing. Then after several moments, moments where my sense fail, where I feel weak and unprotected, shapes and shadows come to me. Then colors. This is a luxury. I have not seen colors as rich as this in a long time. The brilliancy of the orangish-red fire illuminates my surroundings, and I become overwhelmed with senses and smells and colors.

I am not used to this. It puts me in a jumpy state. I search for any available escape routes, yet none present themselves. There is a forgotten, rusty hatchet lying but inches from my reach. I will be ready if it comes to combat.

Not completely letting go of reality, I let myself sink into long-awaited relaxation. Another luxury. But not a long one.

"Are you well? Can you speak?" A voice soft as gossamer ribbon shatters my perfect moment of bliss.

I look up and see about 10 people. I have not forgotten how to count. It is essential to one's survival. The one who spoke is a beautiful girl, around 17 years of age. Young. She resembles a bellowing brook. Constant, fierce, not to be underestimated, yet still quiet and respected. She has flowing black hair, and sultry green eyes. Bright, yet wounded as can be. She is tall and statuesque. Attractive. Her voice is cool and calm, yet she looks to the entrance with a un-ease that could move a million soldiers in a split-second.

"I...have…for-forgotten…" I struggle through the words as I try to make sense of them in my mouth. I think, I don't speak. Speaking takes away your focus. Speak, and it shall be the last time you ever do so.

"Do you have a name?" A wise looking one says as she dresses my wounds. She is old. I have not seen an elderly in a long while. We die young. She has wispy white hair, and piercing blue eyes.

"My...my mo-mother called me Fang." The words come easier. I do not create an alias. I sense no need for secrecy.

"Fang. Nice name." A burly man with curly brown hair in the back commented. I size him up. Strong forearms, yet weak lower body strength. He will go down in seconds, should he choose to provoke. I choose not to attack. I fight verbally for now.

"What is your name?" I ask. My question is directed at the burly man.

"Michael." The man grunted.

This gives me the ammunition I need.

"Oh. You were named, then, for Andrew Miles? The man who single handedly passed America to the Chinese in what he thought was a peace treaty? Or perhaps Michael Andrews, leader of Africa circa 2089? Who was too greedy to do what was best for his nation, and passed it off to China for 7 blocks of gold? Watch your backs. You have a deceiver." I said the last part to the people as a whole.

The man did not reply. I had won this battle.

"How do you know so much?" A little red-haired girl asked with loud eyes and a quiet voice.

"I hid in a building with many books once for many months. I only learned how to read four days before…before I left. I read only half of one book. History through the ages. I know this much." I replied. This girl was sweet. She could be trusted.

"How did you escape the ice dogs?" The black haired girl, whose name I learnt was Aspen, asked.

"I ran." I replied. It was the truth.

"You…ran? That's preposterous! You would have to run faster than any man could possibly run! That's wrong! Your body wouldn't support you. You lie. He is not to be trusted!" A man with yellow hair called from the back.

"I ran." I repeated. I could see they did not believe me. I turned and walked towards the exit.

"Wait! You cannot leave so soon. You must stay the night. You must stay and eat. You cannot leave.

You are too weak." I turned to see Madge, the elderly with the blue eyes, speaking to me.

"She's right," Michael grunted, "the Ice Dogs will pick you to the bone. You can't leave."

I was surprised. It was overwhelming. This was all new. I had to leave. I had to leave now. I grabbed the lonely hatchet and ran towards the entrance. I ran and ran and I ran and ran and ran. That's all I know. Run. I didn't stop until the simultaneous rhythmic beating of Aspen's heart became but distant background music.

I stopped under a withering willow and contemplated this beauty whose destiny has been unchangeably thrown in the mix with mine. And the way our hearts beat together! Her soft, melodious tune with my raging, sporadic beat! It was unlike anything I have ever heard in my life! Amazing. Awe-inspiring. Stupendous. Zealous. I sighed as I sunk into a slumber known only to rip van winkle.

***

"Well, good morning, sleepy-head." Aspen said as she smiled her heart stopping, mind numbing, sense failing, earth shattering, gorgeous smile that I had only been so privileged to see. I had seen nothing like it in my eighteen years.

"Aspen? What are you doing here? You mustn't! Return!" I scolded.

"Is that a command, soldier?" She giggled flirtatiously as she pointed to my war-worn badge on the crest of my battered and burned tan soldier's uniform. Huh. Had I really been a soldier? It seems so long ago. Well, months really. But what are months to me now? But days and tests. I may have only months to live. I may live for many months. Joe Black*, the man in charge of this mess, will be replacing all the alternative fuel sources with liquid nitrogen in a few months. Which means? Death. Death by the city loads.

This reminds me.

"Aspen, what do you know of a man called Joe Black*?" I asked, my voice low.

"Not much.." She replied, with a quizzical look settling into her piercing ember eyes.

I sighed. Had she been living under a rock? I stopped, realizing the irony of my own thoughts. We had all been living under rocks lately.

"That's not too hard of a statement to undertake. Joe Black*, is…the reason we are who we are. The reason we live the way we do, cold and desperate for a guide of sorts to pull us through safely to the next part of our lives, be it moments or minutes." I explained, with an unexplained rush in my voice.

She stared back with a foggy, uncomprehending look.

"He's the bad guy."

"Oh. Well, now I feel dumb." She shyly glanced towards the ground, as if embarrassed. I didn't like that look on her angelic face. It didn't belong.

I reached across and caressed her cheek, then trailed my fingers to her beautiful chin, and tilted her gift-from-the-gods face up, and peered deep into her eyes. I felt her pain. I felt her agony.

"Hey. Don't. Don't hurt. I can't take it. Don't do that to me."

Her eyes sparkled with a short but sweet twinkle that would set any man's soul afire. Then it died down, to a hidden glint beneath the surface.

We embraced.

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